


The Storm

by Gypsymoon77



Series: The Three Sisters Triology [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action & Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsymoon77/pseuds/Gypsymoon77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean drags Castiel along to hunt down the remaining two harpy sisters, he can't deny that something has definitely changed between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrible at summaries and chapter titles and picking tags. So thank you so much for reading despite all of that!

Dean Winchester was not a morning person. Not that he couldn't be fully alert in a matter of seconds. A lifetime of being a hunter had guaranteed that. But given the chance, he liked to sleep in. To huddle under the blankets for just a few more minutes. Which was currently impossible as a wide band of morning sunlight was slipping in between the cheap hotel curtains and was glaring right in his face.

He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, the momentary irritation of being awake before he really wanted to be distracting him from the oddness of the previous night. He lay for a moment, considering the strange intimacy that had seemed to hang between him and Castiel. But an entire night's sleep lay between that moment and this one, and it was if that time didn't even really exist.

Dean sat up, tiredly running his hand over his face and glanced around yet another hotel room. Sam was on the adjacent double bed, sprawled out on top of the duvet. He had only gotten in a little over an hour ago and had merely collapsed on the bed before drifting immediately into a deep sleep. Dean gave a half-smile at his brother.

“Good morning.”

The gravelly voice turned Dean's attention to Castiel, who was sitting at a small work desk. He had apparently spent the evening reading through some of the books that Sam always kept stashed in the Impala's trunk.

“ _At least he didn't just stare at me while I slept,”_ Dean thought ruefully.

“Mornin' Cas,” he greeted. He stretched before standing and padding across the carpet towards the the table where the angel sat. As he passed, he ruffled the angel's hair affectionately before flopping down in the chair next to him. Dean rummaged through the convenience store bags Sam had brought with him, knowing there would be a pie somewhere in there.

“I've been reading Sam's books....” the angel stated in his usual blunt manner.

“You don't say,” Dean quipped as as he removed the apple pie from its wrapper and took a large bite. Castiel seemed impervious to his snark.

“Apparently, the three harpy sisters were Celaeno, the one we dealt with last night, along with Aello and Ocypete....”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment before replying. “You know this is normally Sammy's territory. The researching and lecturing, that is. It's kind of weird for you to be doing it...”

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line in frustration. Dean grinned at him and leaned forward.

“You're so easy to get a rise out of, Cassie,” he teased.

At the nickname Castiel's eyes darkened. He leaned in closer to Dean and hunter felt a small, unusual thrill at the proximity. He promptly dismissed it.

“I _hate_ that name,” the angel hissed.

Dean opened his mouth to badger his friend further, but was interrupted as a pillow smacked them both in the face.

“Would you two shut up!” snarled Sam, before flopping back onto the bed to continue his sleep.

Castiel looked properly chastised, but Dean just laughed and chucked the pillow back at his brother, inciting more grumbling curses from the younger man. Dean used the interruption to put some distance between him and Castiel, leaning back and proceeding to devour the pie that was his breakfast.

“You want to go hunting with me, Cas?” he asked casually, balling the pie wrapper and tossing it towards the trash can and missing.

“Really?” asked Castiel hopefully, looking back up from the book he had been perusing. He gave Dean a doubtful look. “When I told you I wanted to be a hunter...”

“I know, I know, I was an unsupportive jerk,” replied Dean, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. He pointed towards the unconscious Sam. “But I don't think he is going to be up any time soon and I want to get out while there is plenty of light. I think the other one was only going back to her nest at night, so I'm hoping we can find this one's while she's still out. So we had better go ahead and hit the trails.”

“The trails?,” asked Castiel dubiously.

Dean grinned at him. “Yeah. We're going hiking.

 

 

xXxXx

 

“You boys better be careful out there,” drawled the park ranger. He eyed the two hikers from underneath bushy silver gray eyebrows with more than a little bit of consternation. The younger looking one he was pretty confident knew what he was doing. It was the older one that had him a bit worried. The man kept glancing down at himself as if he had never seen the hiking boots, cargo shorts, t-shirt and flannel shirt he was wearing.

“Having trouble out there?” asked the younger man, drawing the ranger's attention. His eyes held a steely, slightly suspicious look.

The ranger wondered if maybe they were reporters. He silently cursed. He thought he and the sheriff had been doing a good job of keeping the rumors of missing hikers hushed up. Their little town was already almost dead. They couldn't afford to loose the little bit of revenue from the summer tourism they got.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Just calling for storms later this afternoon. We've been having real bad ones the past few afternoons.” He pointed to a tree near the park entrance that had conveniently been blasted by lightening. Granted, that had been over a year ago, but the storms _had_ been bad the past few weeks, so he didn't feel too bad for the discrepancy. 

“We'll be safe, sir,” answered the younger man. He tugged on the other man's shirt sleeve for him to follow and the pair set off towards the trail head.

The ranger watched them go, feeling a nagging apprehension. The pair consulted their park map and seemed to promptly begin to argue about which direction they were going to take. The ranger followed them with his eyes as long as he could until the took a turn in the trail that led them deeper into the forest. Maybe he should have warned them after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The outcropping on which Castiel stood looked out over the Appalachian mountain range, an ocean of hard wood trees just beginning to be tinged with the first hint of autumn colors. Wind ruffled his vessel's brown-black hair and he felt the urge to manifest his wings and let the mountain breeze caress outstretched feathers. But the group of college co-eds they had passed earlier weren't too far behind them and Cas could only imagine their shock if they took a turn in the trail and came across an angel basking in the afternoon sun.

“I remember when these mountains were much taller,” he spoke conversationally to Dean, who sat behind him on the bald rock, sipping from his canteen. “It is amazing how much a place can change over so little time.”

“'So little time' in this case being thousands of years, yeah,” replied the human as he re-capped his canteen and stowed it in his backpack.

Castiel looked back at the human, the very _mortal_ human, and watched him intently for a moment. He wondered if Dean was even aware of what he was doing. Years had taught Cas that the more sarcastic the hunter was, the more likely there was something bothering him. If everything was fine, Dean could still be snarky, but the comment would inevitably be followed up by a brilliant, mischievous grin. If things were less than fine, anything anyone said would be answered with acidic sarcasm.

Apparently things were less than fine right now, judging by the frown on the hunter's face as he stared out over the mountain ridge. He sensed Cas staring at him and turned his head slightly to meet the angel's blue-eyed gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” stated Castiel hastily. One thing he knew was that no amount of whining, pleading or cajoling would get the hunter to talk about something, much less his _feelings_ , before he was ready to talk about it. The angel turned back to the vista spread out before them, his eyes scanning for any signs of the harpy. He heard Dean get to his feet, and a moment later, the other man bumped him slightly with his shoulder as he came to stand beside him. He also knew what that gesture meant: _I'm being an ass. Forgive me?_ Castiel's lips curled slightly into a smile and Dean took that as his answer.

“That ranger was right,” Dean commented, effectively ignoring the unspoken conversation that had just occurred between them. He nodded his head towards the northwest where mounds of dark clouds were starting to pile up. “Looks like we're going to get a storm soon.”

Castiel frowned in the direction of the clouds. “Something feels wrong,” murmured the angel. He watched as a fork of lightening snaked across the horizon, jumping from one cloud to another. “It's almost as if that storm...has a will?”

“Can harpies control weather?” asked Dean, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Because really, what else did he need other than a weather-controlling bird-bitch.

“I wouldn't know. Do I look like a harpy to you?” cracked Castiel, trying his hand at sarcasm. He flicked his wings, and even though they were still invisible, there was an audible rippling noise and dead leaves went skittering across the rock face. He tried not to wince as his injured wing stung with the motion.

Dean grinned at him. “No, you definitely don't look like a harpy,” he answered, his expression softening as he thought back to the feel of soft feathers against his finger tips. He unconsciously took a step closer to Castiel. “Don't go get your feather's all ruffled, angel,” he teased.

Castiel's body swayed forward, bringing him a little closer to the hunter. Since when did Dean start smelling so...nice? The man was giving off a subtle scent. Suddenly, another smell assaulted Castiel's senses. His face twisted in disgust and he took a hasty step backwards.

Dean felt a brief moment of panic, afraid he had overstepped some boundary with the angel, before his weaker human senses picked up on the smell. “Oh, hell,” he hissed, clamping his hand across his face and breathing through his mouth. The rotting smell was almost unbearable.

“I think it's coming from that direction,” pointed out Castiel, his voice muffled as he also had his hand over his nose. He gestured towards the amassing storm clouds. A foul-smelling wind was wafting from the area that the storm seemed to hover above.

“You don't say,” snapped Dean. He stared out across the forest. Of course, none of the official trails headed that way; they would have to forge their own path. There would be no way to make it before the storm broke and he and Cas weren't equipped for an over-night stay. But would he miss his chance if they went back now for Sammy?

“Come on,” said the hunter gruffly, snatching up his backpack and heading back down the trail. “One of the trails cut off in that direction farther back. We need to hustle if we are going to make it over before dark.”

Castiel took one last look at the gathering storm and then moved to follow his friend.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't make it.

Dean shivered as he tried to huddle further under the outcropping, his back grinding into the rough rock. Thick curtains of rain were pouring down past their makeshift refuge and the wind was whipping spray in, drenching the pair no matter how far back Dean tried to get. Dark clouds had obscured the sun, leaving them in premature twilight. Lightening periodically lit up the early darkness, casting surreal shadows through the dark tangle of underbrush. The wind was rushing through the trees overhead, and periodically Dean would hear it pitch slightly higher, bringing with it the stench of rotting flesh.

He idly wondered if the co-eds they had warned off had made back to the trail head, or if they were out here, being hunted by the harpy like he and Cas were. Dean let out a huff of breath in aggravation. He hated feeling cornered, sitting here cold, wet and miserable.

Castiel shifted to put his back to the storm. With a rushing sound, his wings manifested and unfurled, now blocking out most of the rain. “Better?” the angel asked the shivering hunter.

“Hey, you don't have to do that!” Dean protested weakly. “You'll catch a cold or something.”

Castiel's face broke out in an infectious grin. “Dean, I'm an angel. I don't catch colds....”

“But you're hurt...” Dean mumbled, his eyes focused on the outstretched wings. He lifted his hand slightly, as if to touch the feathers, but he hastily dropped his hand back to his side.

Castiel caught the gesture and smiled kindly. “Would you like to touch me again?” he offered innocently.

Dean swallowed hard. He knew Cas hadn't meant it _like that_ but the angel's offer made him feel somewhat giddy among other things. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to figure out what exactly was the appropriate _friend_ response. “Yeah, sure, buddy, let me fondle you a little.” Dean swallowed nervously.

Cas tilted his head to the side, curious at Dean's anxious reaction. He was concerned that maybe he had said the wrong thing or some how offended the hunter. Dean could be prickly on a good day, but he seemed particularly on edge. Castiel was about to question about him when the sound of branches snapping caught his attention.

There was a sound between a thump and a crash, and the rank odor of rot invaded their small den. Castiel glanced over his shoulder, instinctively pushing Dean further back in their shelter, away from the predator. The harpy was drenched in rain water that was dripping off oily wings. Her sister had maintained her beauty in her human aspect, but this one was outright hideous. Scars crisscrossed her face and breasts, testaments to centuries of battles won, and one eye was milky white from a past wound. She was clumsier than the last one. She had apparently made a less-than-graceful landing and was righting herself, talons digging deep groves into the forest floor.

“Oooohhh, a little birdie!” she mockingly cooed at the angel with his outstretched wings. “If I had known there was something like _you_ about, I would have waited just a little bit longer.”

For a moment, Castiel's mind was blank as he tried to puzzle out her meaning. But then he remembered Dean's revelation that the sisters were in the middle of their mating cycle. If she was no longer interested in him for that reason, that must mean that this one already had already laid her eggs.

Apparently Dean came to the same conclusion because Cas heard him mutter “Oh, gross.”

“Oh, what does the little birdie have? Will you share with your wing-sister, Aello?” she asked, shuffling forward and straining to get a good look at Dean.

Castiel felt sick as he realized she thought he was just another monster with a victim. “I am nothing like you!” he stuttered in revulsion. “And Dean is not for eating!”

He beat his wings menacingly, ignoring the pain that jolted up into his back, and the harpy slunk backward. She gave Castiel a curious, disbelieving look.

“Humans are for eating, you dolt!” she crowed, dropping all pretenses. “Hatchlings these days. You are no better than Ocy with all her drivel about peaceful co-habitation and such.”

“Cas,” the angel heard Dean mutter in his ear, his breath brushing across his cheek as the hunter leaned in. “Move your feathery ass so I can gank this bitch and we can go home.”

Castiel pushed Dean backward again, more forcefully this time. Normally, he followed Dean's lead, but this time, something was different. He wasn't sure if he was just upset that the harpy had mistook him for just another monster, or if it was how she treated Dean as just another meal. Or the way she was going on, presuming to lecture him, an _angel_. Maybe it was the dull ache in his injured wing making him more susceptible to irritation. But Castiel was royally pissed.

“Stay put,” he snapped at Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Castiel was already gone, his angel blade unsheathed. The harpy barely had time to pause her rant when the angel was on her. Castiel's battle with the first harpy had been impressive, but now Dean could see all of his bragging about being a captain of his garrison hadn't bee idle talk. Even when Aello raked a taloned claw down his chest, making ribbons of his shirt and the skin underneath, Castiel didn't even pause. He simply brought the angel blade down in another graceful arc, cutting another gash in the shrieking harpy.

At least, Dean thought that was what was happening. The angel and the harpy were beginning to move at supernatural speeds while the hunter sat stupidly under the overhang, feeling dull and useless. It wasn't a feeling that Dean Winchester was used to feeling, and he didn't like it all.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The rain had let up, leaving behind it a lingering fresh scent of ozone mixed with the musty scent of decaying wet leaves. Dean stood in the last rays of sunlight, staring at the ground outside of the small alcove in which he and Castiel had taken refuge. There were feathers everywhere.

“Damn, Cas,” he grunted, surveying the meager remains of the latest harpy. If he had thought Cas' first fight was impressive – well, this had just been a blood bath. Dean shifted from one foot to the other. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable around Castiel since early in their friendship, before it was even really a friendship. That night that he had appeared in Dean's dream and made it clear that he served Heaven, not man, Dean had been honestly afraid of the angel. Years of Castiel's clueless blundering had taken the edge off that fear and it had finally mellowed to more of a protective instinct. He had forgotten that despite his nerdy, accountant look, Castiel was far from being human.

Castiel didn't respond to Dean's comment. He stood amongst the blood and feathers, his hand absentmindedly touching his left shoulder, but Dean knew that he was actually reaching for his injured wing.

“Cas?” the hunter called out gingerly. He took a hasty step back when the angel jerked his head in his direction; Castiel's blue eyes were icy cold and devoid of any remains of human emotion. Dean opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of what to say to this dangerous version of his friend.

“We must find the eggs,” stated Castiel, apparently oblivious to his friend's discomfort.

“It's pretty much dark, Cas. I don't think.....” Dean trailed off as Castiel stared at him unblinking. “Right, OK. Lead the way,” he stated, gesturing grandly towards the darkening forest.

The angel turned and moved off deeper into the woods. Dean let out a whoosh of breath and snagged up his back back, following hastily after the belligerent angel.

 

xxxx

 

Dean was beyond angry. Apparently whatever mood had been triggered by Castiel's fight with the harpy was not going to wear off anytime soon. The angel had maintained a stony silence no matter how many times Dean had tried to crack a joke or to start a conversation. And despite the angel's determined march through the woods, he apparently had no idea where they were heading. He had led Dean in circles and any time Dean had tried to point out his lack of a sense of direction, Castiel had turned and simply stared at the hunter for a moment, before turning back and marching onwards.

So it had taken them all night to finally locate the harpy's nest. And now this.

Dean raked his hand through his sandy-blonde hair and sighed. The nest was massive, an intricate jumble of twigs, bits of yarn, grasses and leaves, and oily harpy feathers, interspersed with pottery shards, beads, metal scraps and dozens of other shiny things. The one thing missing were harpy eggs.

There were three clear impressions in the nest showing the spots where the eggs had once lain, but there was no sign of them. No egg shells to indicate they had hatched or been destroyed. Dean risked a glance over at Castiel. He was frowning fiercely.

“The other one,” he said abruptly, causing Dean to jump slightly. Castiel turned his emotionless gaze to the hunter. “The one she called 'Ocy'. Perhaps she has been here?”

“Great,” muttered Dean, his shoulders slumping.

Castiel turned quickly. “We should get back to the hotel and collect Sam. We need to find the last one and destroy those eggs.”

He turned to head back down towards the trails, but Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist. He could feel the angel tense.

“Man, what happened to you?” Dean hissed. Castiel pointedly remained turned away from him. Gently, Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and forced the angel to turn to face him. Castiel's blue eyes were wide with confusion, but the underlying anger was still there. “Talk to me, Cas,” insisted Dean, squeezing the shorter man's shoulders.

Cas glanced all around, not daring to look Dean straight in the eye. “She...she _lectured_ me, as if I were beneath her...” he muttered, sounding like a sullen child.

Dean let out a laugh. “Cas, I lecture you all of the time. You've never decided to smite me because of that,” he added with a roguish grin.

“Perhaps I should,” muttered Castiel, but Dean could see the beginning of a smile playing on his lips.

“Really, man, what is this about?” pleaded Dean, tilting his head to the side and trying to get a better look at Castiel's face.

“She was going to eat you...” mumbled the angel. Dean opened his mouth to point out that this hadn't been the first time a monster had intended to gobble him up, but Castiel finally raised his eyes to Dean's and the dark, dangerous look in the angel's eyes made his mind go blank. Castiel roughly grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer until Dean could feel the angel's breath against his mouth. “ _And you are mine, Dean Winchester.”_

“Oh shit,” muttered Dean, but the words came out laced with desire rather than fear. ' _Oh shit,_ ' he repeated in his head.

Castiel blinked owlishly at him, as if Dean's reaction had been what was needed to finally cut through his blind rage. The angel's face heated up and he released his hold on Dean's jacket, and hurriedly stepped backward.

“Cas! Wait!” called Dean, but it was too late. There was the whoosh of unfurling angel's wings and then Castiel was gone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on wrapping the story up in part three of the series, "The Swift". Is it worth continuing?


End file.
